U N A S H A M E D

You become what you worship.

[goingunderbelly]

I’m not one for resolutions.

My head has been throbbing for the past 24 hours, teres major twitching uncontrollably - all apparently signs of stress. Yet, this is probably the first time I’ve slept through the night in months. 

Last November, I attended Logan’s seminar on how to create sustainable business practices and walked away inspired to automate some of the most inane functions that brings daily distress to my life. I wrote a list of 11 things I wanted to implement (ambitious, I know) - 3 months down the road, we’re 20 - 30% through 8 of those 11 things. 

But none of these things frustrate me. 

They used to - but now, I recognize the cog I play in a larger wheel. Not with resentment, but with appreciation for the larger wheel, and its function in relieving my fragile human soul of the burden of carrying the hope of the business on my knotted shoulders.

The quiet frustration in my soul hums only when the music stops and the lights are off. 

Where am I going? 

Have I ever experienced love? 

Do I have the courage to be vulnerable enough to ever experience love? 

Am I ready to ask God for it? 

For all the bravado I put up, the intellect is my wall - a guard I put up, an invitation to challenge and free me of my ridiculous fears of intimacy... or an excuse I give myself to disengage when people fail to rise up to it. 

So I’m attempting to write again. 

To have courage to be vulnerable - at least to an audience of none, daily. 

To pour out my prayers, resounding in the tactile joy of punching keys to the rhythm of a desperate sinner who’s God redeems and reconciles. 

This is to being courageously fearful. 

[goingunderbelly]

It all hinges on this one thing.

“Think of an angry cat.”

I approach the barbell, standing on an elevated platform. Smug with the knowledge that barbell movements were typically in my wheelhouse, I set up with my hands wide on the 35-kilo bar and flattened out my back.

“Give me a big arch in your back, like an angry cat,” 

Confused, I lifted my hips. 

“No, not like that. Arch your back.”

I squeezed the bar harder, and rounded my upper back.

“No, think: really, really angry cat. Arch. your. back.” 

This went on for a while. I was reluctant to give up my textbook “flat-back” deadlift set up, but it quickly became clear that this wasn’t a fight he was willing to lose. Eventually, Richard ditched the cat imagery and resorted to poking and prodding to get me into position.

“He wants me to lift the bar with a rounded back?” I thought with genuine disbelief. 

Frustrated but peer-pressured into playing along, I kept my thoughts to myself. Richard gestured at me to keep my head down, and lift the bar. 

“This cannot possibly be right. I guess this is how I die;” 

I let out a faint joke; a proverbial knife slicing through the palpable tension in the room created after extensive negotiations. The self-deprecating humour masked undertones of a deep-seated anxiety that was very real and personal to me - 21-year old Mel, with a herniated slip disc in her L5/S1 really, really did not want to do this. 

“Just lift the damn bar, Mel,” 

Jolted back to reality, I focused on recalling the story that we made up: a hunched over cat, eating its meal jumps in surprise. No cues on squeezing anything, or locking out a joint - all he asked of me was to be the cat in the story. Jump up in surprise without leaving the ground. 

The room watched with bated breath as I wrapped my hands around the bar. I stood the bar up, and looked towards Richard for approval. He hung his head and let out a sigh. 

“Again.”

Rep after rep, it felt like an endless tug of war. For every inch of disbelief I was willing to suspend, Richard asked for more. He pushed, I pulled back. The tug of war between a coach and an athlete is birthed out of two things: pride and trust. Despite saying that I wanted to learn, this stressful debacle came down to two things:

I was too prideful to accept that something I’ve done for years could be wrong - even if that very method brings me pain/does not work. 

I didn’t trust Richard enough to have my best interest. 

“No, stop trying to flatten your back!” 

The harder I tried, the worse it got. 

Richard gestured for me to make another lift but I kept my head down; on the verge of tears, I gently let go of the bar. I muttered a word of apology under my breath, and sat in a corner. The class went on as I fought back tears from streaming down. 

During our session break, I walked up to Richard and apologized - it wasn’t the first time I’ve cried because of CrossFit and I’m sure it wouldn’t be the last, but I felt inclined to make sure he understood that it wasn’t on his conscience. 

“Why were you upset?”

“I felt lost - I couldn’t tell a good rep from a bad rep... It wasn’t you.”

“Why does that bother you?” He looked at me empathically. I began to sob again. (I told you.)

“It just doesn’t make sense. I can put 70-kilos overhead in a snatch, but can’t bend over to rack the plates onto the bar without feeling a twinge in my back. There are things that I’ve written off as being inaccessible to me since my slipped discs happened, but its beginning to feel so stupid that I can’t bend over and pick up something, but I can rep out 20 deadlifts at 115-kilos.

This. doesn’t. make. sense.”

I was bawling at this point. 

We didn’t revisit the bar that day. 

But on the next day, we started with a 400m deadball carry. As Richard tailed me the whole way through, I screamed, kicked and swore. He stood by to reassure me that he wasn’t going to lift a finger to help. It was pure agony.

As I dropped the 30-kilo ball at the front of our gym doors, I swore that I was done. My back was lit like a Christmas tree and all my worst fears were laid bare. He reached out to me for a high-five on completing, and I swallowed my pride to take his hand. As the four of us took the purple couch upstairs to kick off day 2, the most bizarre thing struck me: the dull ache that usually sits with me throughout the day in my lower back is suddenly gone.

Disbelief turned to surprise, surprise turned into joy.. and joy turned into openness. The experience, as agonizing as it was, gave me a glimmer of hope. A hope that I had abandoned since the morning I woke up unable to sit up from my bed or walk myself to the bathroom, after a series of deadlifts. A hope crushed by doctors warning me to stop lifting weights if I wanted to be able to withstand child-birth in the future. 

For the first time in a long time, I had a day truly without any pain or fear.

I had no idea how liberating it was until the freedom was returned to me. As my skepticism vanished, so did my pride. I opened my notebook, suddenly ravenous for a whole new world where everything was familiar but not. 

If I could pass this liberation on to one person, this would have all been worth it.

None of this was written to promote Strongfit or its seminars. All recollection, photos and stories are shared out of an outpouring of gratitude for the experiences I’ve had. Thank you, Julien, Richard and team Strongfit, for everything that you do. 

[goingunderbelly]

4th Open Reflections - Part 2

I stole a nervous glance at the clock.

“Did it read 10:33 or 10:38?”

My 12 minute window was expiring. 

The sweat was reaching beyond my brows and deep into my vision. I reach my bloody hands into the red bucket, and the clamouring crowd slows to a silence. Even in my state of delirium, I knew that I couldn’t miss the next snatch.

I took the platform, and Daryl’s hollers were the last I heard.

There wasn’t room for thought, cues or errors. I’ve made this lift before - on the competition floor and off. Two blue plates and then some. There was no logical reason to be afraid, but fear doesn’t reason.

The Open is powerful to me because it landmarks my insecurities in a real and visceral way. My fears are given color, texture, sound and life - I can now always trace back to a particular moment in time when my weakness became simultaneously public and personal. And if you’re anything like me, that memory will hold a mental address for at least another 364 days.

The buzzer went off, synchronising with the sound of plates hitting the ground. I was one snatch short of making it to the next round.  I began to feel a resignation sink in, realising that my chances of making our stellar Regional Team is dimming with every additional rep Annie stood up, ahead of my score.

/I want you to do well/ /But not better than me./

We’re not a team. There are holes in our armour that are most visibly observed during Open announcements at 8am; faces light up at the thought of redemption, or dim with the prospect of being exposed in their weaknesses. We’re not yet a team; we are individuals who share the same goal.

/Because my brittle pride cannot take the categorical defeat/

With some divine intervention, I decided to make the rest of my pursuit of the Open an opportunity to get over myself,

to surrender my everything in the next two workouts,

to leave no excuses to fall back on when I inevitably wrestle with this familiar discontent in my heart,

to walk up to at least five people every session to tell them one thing I liked about their attempt and encourage them for the next,

to shut down this jealousy.  

I arrived buzzing and excited for 17.4, with the Mogards in tow. We just spent an afternoon drinking in the living word of God, and participating in a reality that was larger than life. It was an experience that dwarfed the anxiety of repeating a 13-minute workout. 

The gym roared to life at 5:40pm, as Annie and I stood before our stations. With a steady crew of supporters materialising around me, I focused on Daryl’s steady counting and Mo’s reassuring voice. 

“Just focus on this one number,” Daryl tapped on the erg screen with his plastic pen, pointing at my row pace. 

No amount of positive self talk can take away the physical agony, but I found myself on the rower 2 and a half minutes ahead of my expected pace. The battle was already won; I peeled myself off the wall at the final relief awarded by the buzzer. 

I dove into Mo and Emily’s arms for a hug - thankful, not only for the accomplishment, but to finally feel realigned with His reassuring presence.

As I locked up after week 4′s Friday Night Lights, an inexplicable sense of relief washed over me. It was akin to taking off a pair of tightly-laced boots at the end of a very long hike, and soaking your feet in a basin of warm water. There was a satisfying comfort that accompanied the soreness - the worst was over. 

The biggest battle of pulling my head out of my ass was won. 

The very next day, I took the title of Singapore’s National Open Weightlifting Championships winner for the second year in a row. 

The Open is now over, and we nervously await the leaderboard to settle. As scores settle and places shift, premature congratulations begin to pour in - we smile, nod and tentatively receive them with thanks. 

I send Jamie, my coach in Okinawa, a text of gratitude:

Me: We (you & I) fell short of our goal of making page one for the season  but I still improved by 10 spots in Asia...?

Jamie: It has been a tough experience for me because it's been so hard to keep you on target and really help you from a distance but I still feel like you have improved substantially

Me: I think so too. I don't feel bad about what we've accomplished/didn't accomplish this year.  I didn't realize how much ground work I was missing to start with but am really glad we began laying some foundation... so yeah, i didn't KILL it this year. But I think I'm moving a lot better, and I know this will set me up for a better year next year.  Jamie: All you can do is take it little by little Mel: I don't say this enough but having you as a coach this past season has made a tremendous difference. Not just in terms of my abilities but in my outlook towards training and competing. Easily the best decision I've made in 2016

CrossFit Tanjong Pagar now sits in 8th overall in Asia, at the end of the 2017 Open. I leapt from 89th in Asia to 78th. 

The jury is still out on whether this marks the end of my season, but I have learned one thing through this Open, if nothing else: God has uniquely designed for me to engineer experiences, and tell stories - through words, images, and wider platforms like the Championships. 

Did you know that human beings are the only species on this planet that can frame narratives? Animals can convey knowledge and facts to their young for survival, but are unable to weave meaningful stories to pass on from tribe to tribe. Stories give us purpose, and a sense of identity to tie ourselves to. Stories reveal the person of God. We learn of and about each other through stories.

This past 5 weeks, as exhausting as they were, might have just shown me where God is taking me on my next big pursuit in my life. 

[goingunderbelly]

4th Open Reflections - Part 1

“1,648 photos uploading,”

Closing the books on the 2017 CrossFit Open, I initiate a mass upload of every shutter clicked in the past 5 weeks before the process of cataloguing photos begin. 

“42 minutes remaining,” 

I hesitantly take a sip of my coffee - for the first time in weeks, I’ve been well rested and didn’t need the boost of caffeine coursing through my veins. After our celebrations at Nosh last night, I knocked out cold for a solid 8 and a half hours. Secure and confident that I would not be needed for the most part of the morning, I left my phone without an alarm and woke up to a sun hanging high in the sky - a much welcomed change from the usual darkness I stumble out of every morning. Funny how colors and sounds seem bolder with just a little more rest in the tank. 

The past five weeks have been somewhat a blur, but my recollections of it are mostly emotional -

17.1 made me question a year’s worth of training. It was the one workout that truly showed off the meaning - 

the currency of your training is the single rep.

To be honest, I’ve always known that burpees and box jumps were movements that I didn’t particularly enjoy; like running, they weren’t inherently difficult, but the thought of starting was often worse than the actual movement itself. In training, I would half-ass workouts like 7 minutes of burpees & never worked on getting better mechanics for getting through them better - my reluctance to confront my weaknesses in training returned to bite me in the ass when it actually mattered.

After one and a half attempts, I bitterly tried to shrug off the poor start to the season and tell myself that four workouts were plenty to play catch up with. 

Then came 17.2. 

When the workout was announced, there was an unspoken relief in my heart that we hadn’t seen any ring muscle ups (yet), and the fact that bar muscle ups had been featured meant we may not see it again this year. I held on to a spark of hope, and tackled the workout with Tricia on a Saturday morning. 

At the end of 13 minutes, I was a heaping mess on the floor. When most people saw an impressive number of bar muscle ups done, I saw the months we’ve spent regressing me to jumping bar muscle ups. 

I saw the hours spent in CF Asia, swallowing my pride - relearning how to kip. 

I saw myself sitting in Dr Cormack’s office, learning the news that I’d unwittingly torn my bicep from having dog-shit technique.

I heard the quiver in my voice when he asked if I was okay, fighting back tears thinking of how much further my dreams of making it back to the competition floor had become in an instant. 

A year ago, I was doing toes to bars in singles. This year, I made it through a big volume of it and completed a good number of bar muscle ups, breathless and dog-tired - with the correct technique. 

I was proud of myself

... until I saw what everyone else got. 

The bitterness in my heart resurfaced, and as much as I tried to repress it, it wasn’t going away quietly. Under the pretence of helping the team further our Regional dreams, I made another attempt on Monday. 

It did not go well.

“But we’re not even half way in, Mel! The next 3 will be yours - I KNOW it. Keep your head up!” was the general sentiment offered by my comrades, who by sheer hard work and no stroke of luck, were sitting high above me on the leaderboard. 

To be completely honest, up to this point, I had not looked at the leaderboard once. My anxiety and outlook were informed completely by learning what my friends were getting in their attempts - I was too afraid to find out just exactly how far I’d fallen. 

I remember quite vividly the morning 17.3 was announced. John was over the moon, and my phone blew up with texts of encouragement from friends who echoed the same sentiment: 

‘SEE I TOLD YOU! It’s your time to shine now!!’ 

Hours after the workout was announced, I found myself pacing back and forth the green, visualizing the workout. I was obsessed with the opportunity to finally redeem myself - to finally ‘live up to my potential’. 

I picked up the bar and began warming up. 

to be continued

[goingunderbelly]

Where does this leave us?

Depleted but relieved, I laid flat on the grimy floors of Bucheon Gymnasium after some of the most uncomfortable days of my life. Tear downs and drilling rang loud in the now-hollow gymnasium, wedged between incomprehensible chatters. 

I knew it was a matter of minutes before I would be approached with questions/concerns/requests deciphered between broken English and sign language. But this moment was mine, and I was determined to stay in it for as long as I could. 

We did it. 

It happened. Somehow, after eight months of securing and losing sponsorship, seeking out stadiums, coordinating with athletes, long nights on Photoshop - all of which was accompanied by a constant dread in my gut, that I was dropping the ball on all fronts of my life - we made it to the other side. 

I thought I’d feel a sense of victory. 

Watching our friends fly out to volunteer and support the event invigorated me, and it reminded me that the show we put on has a lot of capacity to do good in this region. But the gut-wrenching loneliness that stayed with me leading up to the culmination of all these events continued to weigh on me. I look up at the banners that huge ten feet tall on the ceiling; the pedestals we create for the community, the people and achievements that we applaud - they add up to an important message that what we do is to unite and make visible a community that is otherwise scattered, and perhaps consequently, forgotten. 

But I don’t know if I could stomach another year of carrying it all on my shoulders. 

So I distanced myself for a fair bit of time. I took a trip to Los Angeles by myself, and finally made a pilgrimage trip to the CrossFit Games. Thoughts of a third year and plans for Asia Championships were as far from my mind as I could have possibly kept them.

I ate, lifted and became a fan again.

Between long periods of solo travels were spots of time with familiar faces. I got to reconnect briefly with Mike, who was adamant that growing pains are a part of any operation and that leaving something because I was tired was not an option. 

Coming home, however, was unexpectedly easy. Maybe this has something to do with that fact that my mind is technically still taking a break from figuring out what our next steps are. 

In my case, coming home has meant getting reacquainted with 5am alarms, and a training program that is rigorous in testing my physical and mental capacity, and causes me to question why I do this at all. 

With the Champs put on the back burner, I allowed myself a month to readjust to coaching and training again. Through Jamie’s programming, I had my butt handed to me daily (still true), and more than one occasion, considered that maybe this competing thing wasn’t worth it. That Regionals was a one-off experience and that I wasn’t ultimately cut out for competitive CrossFit. 

In a lot of ways, I’ve not committed 100% to training, despite the hours I’ve willingly invested in training. I’m afraid of failure; of truly trying, and truly finding out what I am made of - and realising that I don’t like what I learn.   

Life has a way of happening regardless of whether you plan for it or not. Before I knew it, my month of adjustment is up and I am staring down the barrel of the gun again. In the past month, I’ve been reminded over and again the love I have for learning and experimenting - the medium of which have been coaching and photography. I’ve been taking my OMD out a lot more, and making sure that moments don’t go undocumented, to the best of my ability. 

I’ve prayed to God daily for wisdom on the road ahead with the Championships. On some days, my heart is discouraged by the silence I’m met with - not because I don’t think he hears me, but because of my inability to hear or feel him. On one of these instances, he sent Matt Swift to the gym. My exhausted self was met with unmatched enthusiasm and wisdom unlike any other; we lifted a little and spoke about coaching, training and when he asked if I had aspirations to compete, I was shy to admit my goals. 

I wasn’t quite sure why but that memory stuck out to me like a nail. I’ve been thinking, talking and praying on it a lot more lately. For courage to know what I want, and to ask God confidently for it. 

[goingunderbelly]

Compositions to Competition: CrossFit Games Pacific Regional 2016

It was 6:01am when the news came through. Little did I know that when the screenshot of our invite nudged me from my sleep, I was waking up from a dream in more ways than one.

In 2014, I was jaw-dropped and giddy from watching some of the best athletes in Asia tear up the competition floor. Serving on the Media Team at the Asia Regionals left a tangible buzz on my skin, but I never thought I’d return in 2016 as a competitor. This account is a gentle salute to the beginning of an unexpected journey. 

We were still, and surrounded by giants. 

When our head judge called out “CrossFit Tanjong Pagar” in complete monotony, we filed in quietly to match the palpable tension in the dimly lit room. I stole a glance of the competition floor, and caught the crowd roaring in anticipation of the final few seconds of heat 1. 

We were told that the most nerve-wrecking part was the moment in between the last heat, and being called onto the floor. As I looked around the room, it wasn’t hard to see how fear could sink it quickly in the presence of greatness. Knowing how these workouts went in practice and the pain sitting in my right rotator cuff, I waited for the rollercoaster of emotion to consume me but it never came. 

All I felt was an inexplicable anchor in my heart - the same sense of groundedness that sat with me throughout the Manila Team Throwdown months ago. I bowed my head and closed my eyes to say a little prayer, when I heard him say.. 

“Did you know that glory, was originally meant to mean “to be heavy” or “to weigh upon”?” 

I held myself by the rails and was immediately steadied by the reminders of his love. In the multiple flashbacks of our horrible test run of workouts, tear-filled phone calls and sleepless nights, all I saw was the people who held me up every time I broke. 

I heard Emily’s calming reassurance on repeat, Vangi’s cheerful encouragement, felt Dylan’s paternal pat on the head, Jamie’s spoonful of cement for days I fell short. 

For the first time ever, I didn’t see failure. I saw my friends rising up to the opportunity to show me love. As I picked my gaze from the floor, I saw the anticipation sit in every one of us differently but I couldn’t help but trace the hand of God in the incredible events that led up to this very moment. 

In two years, I’ve gone from quitting a 9-to-5 to pursue a mentorship under Asia’s most decorated athlete, to co-labouring with him to create a competition our friends in Asia can aspire to yearly, to discovering the person of God and falling absolutely in love with his presence... to embracing becoming an athlete with a team of amazing individual athletes because of it. 

The final buzzer signalled the end of heat one, and we marched into the limelight for our first appearance as a team at the Regionals. The crowd favoured the local teams, but we weren’t left without support. I looked up into the stands and waved back at Annie, Jovi and John in the crowd. 

“Keep your eyes on me,”

Between every set and repetition, we looked to John for a countdown. Paying zero attention to everything else around us, we were suddenly en route to finishing our bar muscle ups with a heaping 9 minutes to spare - 8 and a half minutes better than practiced. Before my brain could register the miracle that just transpired, we mounted the rower and assault bike to plough away in the remaining time. 

In between grinding out AD calories that I never intended to complete, I couldn’t help but think, someone up there must really love me.

[goingunderbelly]

Acceptance

Something miraculous happened to me when I came to Brunei. I was met with unrelenting kindness at every turn. My guard melted away with every conversation and experience. The more I gave, the more I received. And when I stopped trying to be somebody I wasn't and began to embrace the skin I was in, I tasted the freedom of celebrating in another person's greatness without feeling threatened. Insecurities that used to rule over me fell away in sight of the greater good, and I began to really know what it meant to love people. To love somebody is to see the face of God. And because I have, how could I ever live any other way? Miracles happen when your starting point is acceptance. Thank you being the shining example of love and welcoming me into this family, Mo. I cannot wait to make my dent in Singapore with a little mark of Brunei in my heart - see you guys at CrossFit Tanjong Pagar, if you're ever in town! 

[goingunderbelly]

Growing in Freedom: Part 2

Lesson #3: You have all that you need when you need it. 

With the highlight event of the year (Beast of the South East 2014) happening within two weeks of my arrival, I was submerged into the job without delay; Between apartment viewings and furniture shopping, I was learning names and asking for favours by the end of the hour. Relationships aren’t built on credit, but I didn’t have time to cash in on trust and respect I haven’t yet earned. We had a show to put on, and expectation bore its heavy weight mercilessly on my shoulders. 

We pulled off a successful event, but not without collateral damage. At the end of the award ceremony, Dan Aderton walked up to me and said “I don’t even believe in stress, but this weekend has been trying to say the least,” I was stunned. Having moved from one of the busiest capitals in the world, stress epitomized my day-to-day experience. We glorify being overwhelmed; squeezing in catch-ups and multi-tasking on the trains became the daily expression of maximizing time. It never felt like we had enough time; if you did, you weren’t making the most out of life. 

It took me a few conversations to truly understand that the stress originates from feeling inadequate. To feel overwhelmed is to measure a task at hand against the tools you have to complete it, and realise that you come up short. I saw the success of the event as an indicator of my worth as an employee; crippled by the fear of being seen as inadequate, I worked overtime to compensate by putting pressure on the people around me. In being transfixed at covering up the holes in my armour, I failed to honour the people around me by allowing them to lend a hand. I was trying so hard to win their approval and validation that I robbed them of the opportunity of showcasing their talents and abilities.

Inadequacy comes from the imperative to be self-sufficient. It gives birth to pride in the way we carry ourselves, and breeds fear in being discovered to be anything but good enough. When we live out of fear and pride, it becomes hard to celebrate the people around us because our view is always turned inwards. 

The lesson: To need is fundamentally human. To be able to ask, “Will you help me?” is to recognize another person’s talents and ability to be useful to you. It’s a position of strength. “You have all you need when you need it” is not a call to be self-reliant. It is my plea to you to live with open hands. Learn to give and receive freely without defence or judgment. The moment you learn to honour another person by receiving graciously, there will always be help wherever you go, and you will have everything you need when you need it.

And if you still don’t get what you need, maybe you don’t really need it after all. 

Lesson #4: If you build it, they will come. 

The second last lesson I want to talk about came from none other the man himself, Mike Mogard. He once compared us as polar opposites - I believed that we needed a crowd before we built a house. He believed that if we built the house and threw a party, people will come. With this analogy, we tackled building Asia Championships together. It was an unprecedented effort to unite five fitness events around Asia to support the growth of a sport we love and recognize the talents of the people within it. We did a little bit of both - we laid some bricks and put out flyers, mixed some cement and called our neighbours. Over a humid weekend in June, we crowned our first champions in Asia’s largest warehouse gym, Training Ground Bangkok. Today, we both own and operate a dream that we’re excited to work on every single day.

If you build it, they will come. 

I believe this a little more everyday, but not on blind faith. I’ve seen this lived out in all types of scenarios with the Mogards. As a regional competitor and one of the best in the game, Mo’s work ethic is incomparable. If he’s not training or coaching, he’s working on his mobility or squeezing in a few reps of shoulder rehabilitation work. He’s laying the bricks. Show up. Do the work. Victory is unearthed through the hours of labour no one sees on Instagram; it’s what qualifies you to get on that podium, and remain. It is how you win, without relying on the hardware as proof.

The lesson: Whatever you’re building - a business, a relationship, your life, build it with intention. The breakthrough you’re waiting for may not come in the size or form you’re expecting, but it will come in proportion to your willingness to build when no one is paying attention. 

---

Final part to the freedom is lesson #5 and where I’m going next. Brunei, you’ve been so very good to me. 

[goingunderbelly]

Grounded in Freedom: Part 1

I've always believed that it was important to ask the right questions. Defining your search sets up your starting point; the deeper questions - "Who am I?” or “Why am I here?” informs what you ask everyday. Your answers for those questions show up in the way you treat people and do life. 

As strange as it may sound, I came to Brunei over a year ago, compelled by a desire to answer a seemingly simple question: 

"How can I become a better person?" 

I had just graduated from one of Asia's most renowned business schools and had a skill set that was equal parts challenging and rewarding. Life had a way of shoving me back into a community of fitness at every turn; some might say it’s a calling, others call it a painful obsession but regardless, I became enamored with the question. I wasn’t unhappy, but midpoint between joy and depression wasn’t where I wanted to be - there had to be a better way.

Answering the question required that I first outline two things:

What does "better" entail? 

How do I know if I've achieved it? 

Both are tough parameters to set; commonly, "better" is measured relative to time or other people - better than before, better than when I started, better than my peers. But I had no interest in a yardstick as prone to fluctuations as I was, nor did I feel desperate to be pulled out of a bad situation. 

When I took the job at Reebok CrossFit 673, it wasn't a rational choice. The counter-offers on the table made the decision hard to justify, but I felt a strong pull towards the Mogards and the way they led their life. A peek into their lives over two short weekends was enough to plant a craving in me for the stability and unwavering courage they committed in doing life; and they were doing it unreasonably well. It wasn’t a life without hardship, but it was on built on an unshakeable foundation. I saw a snippet of a better way to live, and when opportunity opened up in the form of a job, I leapt at it. 

I’ve been here for 13 months since, and a tremendous amount has happened in this short period of time. We've celebrated PRs, built new training programs, expanded the franchise and started a brand new company together. My idol became my mentor, my business partner and my friend. None of which happened without an unprecedented amount of labour, some anguish and a lot of passion. 

 When you live life in an unapologetically righteous (not self-righteous) way, the energy that surrounds you speaks for itself. It forms an unshakeable mentality that lends itself to the way you treat other people - both in celebration and in conflict. The blue walls in RCF673 is coated with humility, and I’m reminded of it daily. My friends and family in Brunei have taught me so much more than they know, and so in my final few weeks here, I wanted to share a few of those lessons with you: 

 Lesson #1: The Power of Praise 

There is an immense power within all of us to recognize the good in someone, and verbalizing it. Flattery and praise are distinguished based on how you receive it; intended for malice or otherwise, the needy, impressionable and ego-centric will tend to mistake flattery for praise, and the disingenuous and fearful will see praise as dangerous flattery. 

In other words, the ones constantly looking for affirmation are the ones who seem to have the hardest time believing in it. 

In schools, we are taught that being graded on a bell curve means that if I share a gain with you, I lose out in the long run. Trade secrets are protected at the cost of building genuine relationships; over time, we become increasingly reluctant to show praise where it's due and become suspicious when someone throws us a compliment. It wasn't until I met Anna that I understood how incredibly empowering it is to impart praise. In the short time we shared together, she's always quick to show gratitude and the first to point out something awesome about you. She wasn't naively optimistic or paying lip service - she genuinely loved your shoes, and thinks your clean and jerk was amazing. 

I was drawn to her like moth to a flame; who wouldn't want to be around someone who can see, and show you the light in you? In a completely new and foreign setting, she made me feel at home and accepted. News of her leaving the country provoked an episode of me crying with Korean takeout in the car, trying to calm my extremely aggressive sobbing between bites of kimbap. It was not one of my finest hours. 

The lesson: Your words matter on another person's soul, whether you know it or not. Between giving praise, and leaving it unacknowledged, you always have a choice. Choose praise. 

She left a deep impression on me, and I wanted to be more like her. But the funny thing was, if you try to see the light in others without seeing the light in yourself first, it becomes exhausting. Which brings me to...  

Lesson #2: Choose your Anchor Wisely

I can only speak for myself and select few 20-somethings I know, but it feels this is the age defined by a struggle with validation. At the elementary level, we listen to music or hang out with certain groups because we want to be liked. We joke about #SquadGoals and lament about not being able to hold down jobs or relationships, or feeling unappreciated or demotivated at work. We peek at our friends' lives through Valencia lenses, and wonder why our filters don’t seem to work as well. 

At the end of a long day, we climb into bed exhausted but hopeful that we are one day closer to living the dream. We are convinced that if he loves us, if we get that promotion, or pay off the mortgage, we will finally be free. Only then, life has truly begun in our definition. 

We all measure ourselves differently, and my poison was CrossFit. “Did you see that girl’s clean? Did you see ____ finally got a muscle up?” Every comparison felt like a spotlight on where I’ve fallen short, and it ate away at my confidence cautiously but persistently. One night, after hours of false grip practice and failed attempts on the rings, I broke. Only after the tears have stopped that I saw how I’ve always anchored my identity and worth to what my body could achieve, and I would never be satisfied. Even my goals have goals. I was enslaved to a lifestyle where my pursuit was focused relentlessly on feeling adequate, and those are choppy seas to be in. 

If you anchor your worth in being the best employee, the best girlfriend, the best mom, then you’re screwed. Those things are all dictated by someone just as human and fallible as you are. And the more you draw validation from them, the more you’ll be blinded to your own worth in their absence. That’s why it’s hard to give praise because in the pursuit of adequacy, our eyes are so focused on “What about me? Who’s going to tell me I’m doing a good job?”

The lesson: Where you anchor your identity in is what defines your strength. If you anchor your identity in another person, a sport or a job, in the absence of those things, you will be lost. 

----

I’m not done and I’m not used to doing two-part series articles, but I feel like this is good juncture to hit pause and let the words marinate a little! Next up: Lessons 3, 4 and 5 and on the new chapter ahead. Stick around.

[goingunderbelly]

Happy 55th, Dad.

To my father, who is not perfect but has willingly wrung his life out to grow, challenge and love us, happy birthday.

The last five years have felt like a stubborn attempt to prove my independence at all costs. It has been utterly exhausting. My pride kept me from seeing that you and mom were on my team. Armed with good intentions and self-righteousness, I tried to make you understand my decision to leave my job, to work for a sport that no one knew about. "If I could help you understand, you would see". I was so convinced that I knew better; desperate to win your approval, I missed the whole damn point to start with.

By some act of mercy, I was given a lifeline - "Focus on honoring your father and mother, Mel,"

The more I unpacked what it meant to honor you and mom, the more my pride wilted away. For all the times I’ve spent gazing at my own navel, adamant and screaming “you don’t understand me,” it was me who didn’t understand you. Today, I am floored with humility when I think about all the times you have rescued me in the dark night. God knows I've stumbled and fallen short often & in many ways as a daughter; yet, you've never once made it hard for me to come home.

I love you, dad. The grace you've shown me is the kind that makes me want to live in the same generosity that you exemplify; thank you for always having my back. I hope you have the happiest of birthdays - and please, just for our sakes, stop talking about dying. I'm just starting to know you.

[goingunderbelly]

Where do you live?

“Where do you live?” I hide my annoyance with a nervous chuckle, before averting my gaze from the floor. “Oh, here, just for now,”

What I really wanted to say was, “I live in the toggle between Spotify and Facebook. I wake up to the white walls behind each email, and before I can brush my hair or slip in my contacts, I hear you ring: Ping! Ping, ping! Messenger announces your arrival. We kick our feet up against the newsfeed and listen to 140-character chirps lamenting the same pains - we’re too old, too young, too lazy, too entitled, too everything. We fire passive aggressive shots with #foodporn posts, and #riseandgrind videos. Pics or it didn’t happen - we drink it all in, one filter at a time. I live on the internet.” 

[goingunderbelly]

24

This is the age where our skin starts to feel tight. Bursting at its seams are lofty ambitions and baseless anxieties; our souls are still seventeen, but there are no time-outs or recesses. The courtyard hasn't heard a dribble in months; the only sound reverberating through these hallways are the steady thumping of the What Ifs. We are kept awake by fears of fighting the wrong fights, climbing the wrong ladders, and loving the wrong people. We’re not afraid of dying - just afraid of not having a cause to die for.

[goingunderbelly]

now, we leap,

One last project for #reebokcrossfit673 on payroll. For those of you who haven't heard, I'll be taking freelance projects starting August! This is probably the most terrifying undertaking I've ever attempted, but I've always loved building brands and I've finally drummed up enough courage (and support!) to stop being scared. If you're building a brand and could use a helping hand, I write, design and package for small businesses. I'm especially excited to help out of projects related to CrossFit and fitness, and am putting together a simple website to showcase a bit of what I've created so far. Meanwhile, if you were ever curious about my creative process, hop onto my Snapchat 👻: @hookgripdreams! Be forewarned though, you might have to sift through snaps of sushi, handstand walks and other shenanigans.

[goingunderbelly]

Hi! I'm following you on instagram, but couldn't find a way to contact you. I'll be grateful if you answer my questions. I'm in searching of ways to become a coach in Crossfit and start my own box (however I'm trapped by thought "I'm not ready, I'm not fit enough). You wrote that you've left "one of the marketing agencies" to move to Brunei. How have you managed it? How did you find your mentor? How did you find a courage? Thank you in advance - and once more - you rock. Thanks for inspiration

Hi Chrchll!

First off, let me thank you for your kind words. I apologize if it’s been a while since you’ve sent this; I rarely check into my Tumblr, but I’m really glad I did today. 

Now for the meatier stuff: I’m excited for you; being a coach can be one of the most fulfilling jobs in the world. You get to meet people from various walks of life, and if you’re lucky, you’ll have a chance to better the way they view the world by shaping their bodies and fitness. There’s nothing like it. But before you leap into it, I’ll admit this much - it’s not for everybody. I’ve coached enough hours to know that my love for fitness is not deep enough to tie me down to opening at dawn, and closing at dusk. I’ve also seen a lot of overzealous and passionate folks pour their everything into a box, only to have it close down in a year. As for finding courage and a mentor, those things are secondary to figuring out what you really want to do. 

I won’t pretend to know your circumstances, but if I could consolidate advice to three simple points, I’d say: 

1) Figure out why you want to open a box, and how much you’re willing to give up for it. If you don’t know where to start, begin with elimination - i.e. “If giving up vacations for 2 years means you’d have enough capital to start a box, would you do it?” The digger you deep, the more you’ll find about your motivations. The more you understand yourself, the stronger your faith in the process will be - therein lies your courage. 

2) Surround yourself with good people. Give a lot, give without condition - ask little in return, and ask only when you’re in need. 

3) Doing great things often require a little spark of madness - you’ll never truly be ready. Let go of waiting for the perfect moment, and start with what you have. 

Good luck!

x Mel

[goingunderbelly]

Lay the Bricks

“Excuse me, what are you doing?” 

He says, “Can’t you see? I’m laying bricks,”

She approaches the second workman, who is doing the same work as the first and asks, 

“Excuse me, what are you doing?”

He says, “Can’t you see? I’m building a wall,”

She approaches the third workman, who is doing the same work as the previous two and asks, 

“Excuse me, what are you doing?”

He says, “Can’t you see? I’m building a temple.”

In any small business, it's hard to be just one of those three workmen — you are all three. Sometimes you are busy dealing with the task at hand. Sometimes you are falling in love or taking care of yourself, and you don't have time to build a temple or to find a temple you believe in. Other times, you will look for the job that feels fulfilling to you right now. You will want to be a necessary part of a project. Or you want to build the temple all by yourself, but you feel like your hands are too small. They are not.

There will be time for all these things. Lay the bricks until the walls are constructed, until the temple is built. Or dream towards the temple until you figure out which walls to build and which bricks to lay.

Allow your perspective to shift, and shift again. You are in a continuous process of becoming."

- adapted from Sarah Kay's commencement speech at Scripps College. 8 days to go.

[goingunderbelly]

love like this.

"I don't want you to get hurt," caution on his mind, worry in his heart. "Have you ever felt so irrationally confident about something that an unprecedented calm overwhelms you? It's not ignorance of the possibility of failing. I am gripped by gratitude - to be able to say that I have tried, felt, and maybe failed. I don't know what He has planned for us, but you have been nothing but a gift even in your darkest hours. What a privilege it has been to truly see, and love you,"

[goingunderbelly]

Why It's Important To Be Happy

I think I finally understand why it is important to be happy. We throw the term ‘happiness’ around like it’s a free pass to start the second pint of Ben & Jerry’s, or a flawless excuse to get away from our responsibilities.

“Because it makes me happy,” does not exonerate from the consequences that follow - evident from the food baby made of Phish Food, and the self-loathing that follows.

But happiness is still powerful, even if it has been misappropriated repeatedly. It’s powerful because it’s a choice we get to make everyday, in every aspect of our lives. Too many things are beyond our control, but there’s always a way to find happiness in it. If we can’t see it now, its only because we are not looking far enough into the future, or lack the ability to.

Here comes the powerful bit: once you’ve decided to be happy about your choices, there’s an unwritten commitment that you will honor the trials and tribulations to follow in pursuit of that happiness.

What makes you happy may feel very counterintuitive while you walk the path towards it - and that’s okay because if you can honestly profess to be happy with the choices you’ve made, there is a safety in your heart that locks away any doubt that the journey is worthwhile. The good, the bad, the uncomfortable - happiness is your armour for it all.

And it starts with a choice.